


Dust

by spiteful_crow



Category: Berserk
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death Wish, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 04:57:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13116504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiteful_crow/pseuds/spiteful_crow
Summary: After he refused their offer, life continued.





	Dust

He watched the dust, dancing in the sunlight, shining like gold and stars or even like millions of smaller suns. Sometimes he would lie like this for hours, trying his best to not let her notice, that he was awake. He would watch the rays of light, shining on his blanket and he would marvel how alive they seemed. He would never fall asleep, while facing the door, but always the tiny window above his bed.

At night, he would watch the moon and trees, which moved like dark wraiths - like those, who would sooner or later come for him. Or maybe they would not - they had never appeared before him again. And yet he couldn’t help, but keep his eyes fixated on those tree-wraiths’ movements and sometimes his breath would quicken and he would press his eyes shut - not our of fear, but out of the anticipation, that this time maybe … maybe … 

But on the next day, he would wake up, still facing the same window and those same trees and they would be resting. › The way they moved all night, the daylong rest was due ‹ , he would then think. And then, he would watch the dust, floating in the sunlight and try to not let her notice, that he was awake. He needed time.

If nothing else, at least she had the boy. Many times he wondered if she would have been able to continue, if the child hadn’t been born - she had said she wanted to be by someone’s side and Griffith believed, she had finally found that someone. It also meant she wouldn’t be all alone, if Griffith was to …

He remembered the day the boy was born - she had screamed in pain, tossing and turning on the wetted floor. Unable to call for help, he had tried his best to crawl next to her and hold her hand, but the way she had pressed his own had turned out to be too strong for this damaged body of his. It had taken long, until a neighbor had heard her screams and called his woman for help. Later, with the newborn in her arms, she had looked at him and apologized for the broken bones and the remorse in her face had made him wish to never see another day. She had decided to name the baby Guts and it had made him wish to never see another hour, minute, second. He had spent the next few days and nights, lying in his bed and starring out of the window, waiting for the trees to make their move.

The one year old Guts had loved playing with his hair, pulling it, sometimes even chewing on it. It had grown long too - as long as it had used to be back then. She would leave the boy on his bed, while busy and he would wonder why she would entrust her child to a man, who couldn’t hold a spoon. He had done nothing, but prove she shouldn’t trust him, hadn’t he?

But with each time, a part of the tension would be relieved, until he had finally dared to interact with the boy. He would mess the spiky hair of his and make him either laugh or cry. One day, Guts had spoken his first word - “pea”. The silliness of it had made Griffith laugh as well - for the first time in a long while.

He would spend most of his days reading - Judeau would show up at their door from time to time and leave some coin for her and books for him. He was the only one, who ever visited, who ever dared visit and even he would avoid talking to or directly looking at Griffith. Then a bitter smile would grace the Fallen Hawk’s face and he would not deign to look at the other man either. A gesture of gratitude seemed pointless towards someone, who never came for his sake anyway. 

Sometimes he wondered how all those years had passed so uneventfully and yet so fast. The snow of so many winters had melted, the heat of so many summers had cooled down and nothing had ever happened. The wraiths had never once come closer and the dust had never once ceased dancing. Only Guts grew. He had already completed his 8th year, as Griffith had decided to try teach him how to read - a boring task for someone full of so much energy, but he had obeyed in the end, if only to make Griffith happy. It had taken them months, until the boy had been able to read a page by himself, but it had filled Griffith’s heart with pride. After all, he could still set something into motion, which could affect the lives of those around him in a positive way. 

But the days would go on, the boy would only ever come inside to have some food and sleep. And Casca would clean and cook and teach the kid sword-fighting and tell him the amazing stories of Griffith and the Band of the Hawk. And then the boy would look at him with pity and maybe some disbelief, but not say anything. And Griffith would notice once again, how she never mentioned his father and the thought of him would sting like a dagger.

She should have left him, he came to realize it over and over, she should have left with him, but there had been no one she could have left Griffith to. Maybe it would have been all he needed - one final push to ultimately embrace defeat. He would sometimes remember their faces - they had never looked at him the same way again - their leader, who had been born to be a monster, had he not refused. Only the two of them had never been afraid of him, but it hadn’t stopped Guts from leaving. And she would have left too, only if she hadn’t been chained to a sinking shipwreck.

When such thoughts came, he would spend whole days in his bed, watching the trees and knowing they would never come for him. And he would condemn this man for never having shown enough courage to actually put him out of this misery, before leaving.

But then, on the next day he would watch the dust and note that he didn’t have this courage either. Not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically how I imagine Griffith’s life, had he decided to not sacrifice everyone. This is the very first fic I'm sharing, so it might not the the best :P


End file.
